


maybe a little bit

by pinkdwellermask



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Blood, Fluff, Found Family, I'm Bad At Tagging, Oneshot, Slice of Life, also lmk what i should add as tags im dumb, and its late. so idk, based off of an idea i read <3, but only for a little bit its nothing major, fuck what do i tag this as, i guess?? many slices, kinda? a little bit its just neutral, mostly just, not a lot its mostly just, rivalry between wilbur and dreams villages, sleepy boys inc are FAMILY in this goddamnit!!, theres very brief uh, tommy and tubbo are friends, very brief mentions of the dream smp ig
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:27:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27344290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkdwellermask/pseuds/pinkdwellermask
Summary: But what was here for him?What did the Nether have to offer him, except for endless amounts of what he already has?He took a deep breath, and, tucking the book away into a pocket in his coat, bolted straight through the portal, feeling the cold wrap itself around him.--------Aka, the fic where Techno is an actual Piglin king, but leaves the Nether for the Overworld and is introduced to some funny little humans he comes to call his family :)
Relationships: no <3 its all platonic
Comments: 24
Kudos: 663





	maybe a little bit

Thick, heated air surrounded his Bastion castle, and Technoblade - known only as The Blade, by his people - was growing bored.

He stood in the center, in the deepest parts of the courtyard, wiping Hoglin blood off of the blade of his Netherite sword with rough leather. He would occasionally listen in on the grunts of conversation around him, from his guards or the general visitor, though he mostly kept to himself. 

The repetitive nature of his status, of his home, was beginning to weigh on the Piglin king. He wanted to _explore,_ farther than the barriers of his land would allow, he wanted to fight something other than the feral hogs surrounding his home, he wanted _something new,_ he wanted, he wanted, _he wanted._

And, of course; what The Blade wants, The Blade gets.

So he sheathed his sword, tucking away the scrap of leather. Technoblade adjusts his crown, his coat - don’t question how they’d gotten the dyes and the wool in the Nether, he’d long since forgotten, himself - and grabs a few rings to slip around his fingers. Just in case, he told himself. His people were loyal, sure, but their pride as a kingdom was well known. He had standards to hold himself to, not that he minded.

Technoblade’s hooves clicked against the darkened bricks of his Bastion, the taps of boots and small hooves of children running and playing being a steady background noise, joined with the clashing of golden blades from sparring warriors and brutes. He was used to this, he grew up with this. It was his; it was home.

But home could only offer him so much, and as he nodded to the guarding Piglins near the front entrance, he knew it had offered all it could. He wanted more. He _needed_ more, something new to stimulate his mind.

He’d long since known the tales of the Overworld; a colder realm, full of greens and softer land, with no red roof above them or lakes of burning lava. A realm where the weak worked together and thrived, where the predators were tamed into pets. A realm with “humans.”

He knew what humans were, of course he did. Every sensible Piglin had been told about the stray human traveler, appearing in the Nether one moment and disappearing the next, with one of two things happening; a bloodbath, where the humans almost always won, or a peaceful trade of riches for gear and materials. Tales of ruthless humans, robbing the bastions and wandering groups of Piglins, were commonly told to misbehaving younglings to scare them into behaving. Technoblade had never been afraid, though. He was curious.

And.. he’d be lying if he said he’d never wished to encounter a human. The possibilities, the unpredictability, the chance of a fight that his warriors couldn’t give him - it _thrilled_ him, sending adrenaline through his body at the mere thought, getting him riled up and excited and having to destroy dummies made of warped roots just to get that _energy_ out. Sometimes he couldn’t, of course - though he’d made use of his hooves for that, several dents in the ground showing the results of his excited stomping.

He just didn’t know where to start.

Technoblade knew humans existed - they had to, he reasoned, especially when he considered the arches of a rock so dark in color he almost mistook it as blackstone, but with a hardness of something not even the most strongest enchant on a golden pick could break. When he thought about these broken arches, built too tall for a Piglin to reach, too neatly for his kind's preference, with chests full of materials he couldn’t have found on his own in this realm.. Only one being came to mind, and it wasn’t the tall Endermen in the warped forests, or the skeletons that shot from the valleys, or even the burning blazes in those mazes of fortresses. He only thought of humans.

There was a ruined arch nearby, he knew. What its purpose was, however, was a mystery even to the most dedicated researcher. It looked almost like a doorway, but it led to no room and had no walls, so what _gives?_

He passed by a returning Piglin group, out from a hunting expedition. He had stopped to make quick conversation - as much of a conversation as grunts of different tones and lengths could make, at least - before shooing them back to the Bastion with an excuse of business. No one questioned The Blade. No one ran after him, not even the curious child that had joined the adults hunting trip.

Technoblade knew where he was going, or at least that’s what he told himself. He was a “living compass,” he’d been to the ruined arch and he knew his way there. And if he’d gotten turned around and spent a few extra twenty minutes trying to find his way there, well, then that was between him and the Striders in the lake.

The archway was… okay, it was kind of intimidating. It was crumbling in a Crimson Forest, wrapped and tangled in the crimson roots from the biome. Magma and pockets of lava surrounded the archway, along with a rotting chest right next to the broken steps leading up to the arch. It looked like it could collapse on him at any moment, and considering the archway was, while complete, extremely large and thin? He was sure the only thing holding it up were the thorned vines from the roof of the cliff above it.

Now, he wasn’t the most versed Piglin when it came to mythology - especially not when it comes to the lore around humans and the passageways between realms - but he was certain that this archway held some significance. He just had to find out how to… activate it? Would he have to activate it, or would he just have to…

Just to test it out, he steps through the archway, clenching his fists as he passed under it. Okay, he thinks, though not in words, because he doesn’t know what those are. Okay. So he _couldn’t_ just walk right through it and _poof,_ new realm! No, that’d be too easy, he doesn’t know what he was thinking.

Technoblade let out a huff, collapsing to sit and lean against the archway, next to the rotting chest. There was something in there, wasn’t there…

He opened the chest and reached a clawed hand into it, grabbing around without even looking. He tosses out the items one by one - a strange looking item made of flint (he could identify that) and something shiny (he could _not,_ however, identify that), a few pieces of rock that was like the archway but was… wet? A few nuggets of gold that he pockets, a shiny nugget similar to the gold but pale in color, a golden axe with runes of some sort carved into its blade, and… books. He knows those; they have runes that can be copied onto weapons or armor to enhance its abilities, whether it be its strength, the wearer's speed in the valley, or the _actual_ strength, damage wise, not just how many hits it could take. His people all knew the runes at this point; they can't read them aloud, they never learned how and he’s not even sure they can be spoken with how he was made, but it was the closest thing they’ve gotten to a written language.

He drops the book in his lap, almost excited to see what it held, but when he opened it, the runes that greeted him were… odd. They were _runes,_ yes, but… weak. Shaped differently. He could already tell they held no value to him in the ways the books in his Bastion had. And yet, a curiosity tugged at the king, the books odd runes beckoning to him.

And so, dropping a few of the items he held beside him, he began to flip through the pages.

He didn’t understand anything that was written, that was for certain, but even then, he traced the runes with a claw-tipped finger, following the almost elegant lines. His eyes scanned the runes, trying to make sense of them, occasionally drifting to poorly made sketches of the surrounding area, of the hoglins, and even… even a Piglin group, if he looked close enough at the crude drawings. Judging from a few items he had seen buried in the netherrack, he assumes that whoever owned this book had traded, and avoided violences. Tsk tsk, or whatever. Going peacefully wasn’t his _favorite_ option, but he understood.

He moved to press back against the archway a little more, trying to get comfortable, but froze when he heard an odd sound, almost like a hiss, if he had to compare it to anything. The hiss silenced, and in its place..

He looked down to his left, at where he had thrown the odd flint item. A spark, and then a flame burst forth from the pale part of it as it came into contact with the flint, setting the bottom of the archway on fire. Technoblade tugged his coat closer, standing and moving back to avoid setting himself on fire. 

And it was a good thing he had moved, too. As the fire spread, he noticed a purple haze begin to gather near the edges of the archway, almost like the particles that flaked off of the endermen in the warped forests. He thought that’d be all, a few particles, but with a sudden howl, the archway exploded with color in the middle, whispers of desperation and yet something gentle, welcoming, arriving with it.

Technoblade clutched the book close to himself, a hand on the hilt of his sword, just in case. And yet when nothing came through, nothing trying to maul him to death, he let go of the sword.

“ _What the..”_

He reached forward, cautiously reaching through the colored… _stuff_ in the archway - no, not _just_ an archway, he knew now. It was a portal. A portal between realms, just like the stories said it was like.

Whatever it was, it was… cold. So, _so_ cold. The cool feeling spread from his hand - which, by the way, _fucking vanished_ through the purple - up his arm, only ending at his shoulder. And holy shit, did he whip his hand back faster than an arrow through the air.

He should leave. He should go home, forget this ever happened, hell, maybe he should even shatter the archway before one of his people get themselves hurt trying to see what it was.

…

He looked in the direction of the Bastion.

Does he really want to go back?

He cares about his kingdom. He cares about his people. He was a goddamn king, he _needs_ to be there for them, they _need_ him.

But what was here for him?

What did the Nether have to offer him, except for endless amounts of what he already has?

He took a deep breath, and, tucking the book away into a pocket in his coat, bolted straight through the portal, feeling the cold wrap itself around him.

\---

When he exited the portal, Technoblade stumbled, the unusually soft ground making him unsteady. It reminded him of loose gravel, or the valleys, but instead of rough rocks or fine sand beneath his hands when he caught himself, he felt something…. soft. 

His eyes shot open when it clicked with him. Soft. He was on something _soft,_ something _bright_ and _vibrant,_ just like the stories said it was. It was a color he was sure he’d never seen before, and when he looked up, what he saw was not the Nether roof, but a sky as far as he could see and more, a striking blue like the flames in the valleys and the warped forests greeting his tired eyes.

And when he pushed himself to stand, gaze not leaving the sky, he heard.. Something. A sharp intake of breath, his mind supplied, and that's when he noticed how _light_ the air felt, and oh, oh, that was a delight. It wasn’t weighing on him, he could move freely, he could probably fight even better!

There was.. a noise, to his right. His hand shot to his sword, his gaze doing the same but to the source of the sound, and what he saw… what he saw..

A human. Short, shorter than he was, with bright blue eyes and hair as pale and glowing as gold. His eyes were wide, and Technoblade couldn’t tell if it was with fear or with awe. Or maybe something else? He wasn’t used to anything else being directed at him.

The human tugged at the sleeves of another human to his side - one only a little shorter, with dark hair and eyes bright like the ground. The two humans looked at Technoblade, and not a single one of the three made a move.

That was, until Technoblade swiped his sword. The shorter human seemed to think it was directed at them, but Technoblade, while he may be bloodthirsty, he wasn’t _cruel._ If humans were anything like Piglins, then the high voices of these two could only indicate they weren’t any older than children.

No, instead of netherite meeting flesh softer than the hardened skin of hogs or Piglins, it met the hard stone of the portal, easily shattering the thin archway.

No going back now. 

The human with blue eyes seemed surprised, before a grin broke out on their face as they jumped up and down. Technoblade took no note of this, however; human children were just like Piglin children, in this way, it seemed. Mildly annoying but easily ignorable, and just as fragile with the lingering importance of needing protection.

The one with the dark hair seemed to try to pull the first human back, and Technoblade could barely make out buildings in the distance. The human’s Bastions, maybe? Did they even have Bastions? They had to have, where else would they live?

Instead, however, the golden haired human shook their head, and just.. they just _waltzed right up_ to Technoblade. Seriously, the bravery of this kid.

The human tried talking, he knew that much, but he must’ve made a face at it, because the human rolled their eyes. They pointed to themself, and spoke a word.

“Tommy.”

They gestured to the other human, saying a second word.

“Tubbo.”

Technoblade didn’t know if these words had meaning, at first, until it clicked. Names. Those were these human’s names.

He didn’t know how to communicate with them to tell them his own name, and he couldn’t even speak with the noises they made to show he understood, but…

Technoblade pointed to Tommy, and then to Tubbo. When he got an excited nod from Tommy, he rolled his eyes, then pointed to himself, grunting out his own name. Now it was _Tommy’s_ turn to make a face, while Tubbo seemed to still be pleading with Tommy. Technoblade could only guess it was to get him to leave.

Of course, Technoblade was surprised when Tommy tried _grunting right back at him._ Of course, his human body wasn’t made to make the noises Piglins could, but it was.. Enough, he supposed. Close enough.

At the validation, the humans turned to each other to converse. Enough was enough, Technoblade decided, he had more important things to do than get all buddy buddy with a few children.

He turned, planning to leave, until there was a noise of… alarm, almost, that came from the humans. He felt a tug at his coat, and when he turned, he saw Tommy shaking his head. The human pointed to Technoblade’s sword, then to the buildings off in the distance, then made a _fucking decapitation_ motion with his hand, all while speaking in words Technoblade could only hope to understand.

It took him a second - correction, a few minutes, along with the added help with motions and words from Tubbo - to understand. Ah. He could die. Okay. Fine. He wouldn’t _die,_ though, no matter what these kids think. Technoblade never dies.

Tommy seemed to have a plan, though, tugging at Technoblade’s sleeve and trying to walk away. Technoblade only yanked his hand back, giving Tommy a _look,_ and then turning around _again,_ hopefully without interruption this time, and began to make his way to a patch of the only thing familiar; an odd version of the warped and crimson forests, the roots taking a deep color like Tubbo’s hair, and the foliage looking like the ground.

He was hoping the kids would just leave him alone and not be _weird_ and _clingy._ It was as if they’d never seen or heard of a Piglin before.

That was hard to believe.

\---

Oh god. The kids were back.

He’d been doing fine for the past… he doesn’t have a word for what this realm does, lightening and darkening repeatedly. Strange creatures would come out during the dark stages, and a few flying things had tried attacking him when he refused to rest, so maybe this realm was just a hell-realm. But still, for the past few light moments, as he’s taken to calling them, he’d been fine. He’d built a decent base, managed to learn what was and wasn’t edible within a few hours, and was trying to figure out what the fuck the book _said._

And then the kids came back. He could barely remember what they had said their names were, and now there were _two more humans, for fucks sake, why-_

Another golden-haired human - though this one wore a lot of the color of the ground - and another dark-haired human. These two were older, obviously, and one had something connected to a strap on his back. It was oddly shaped, too big to be a weapon but too solid looking to be a bag. Weird.

Technoblade just glared at the humans, who stood at the edge of the clearing that he’d taken for himself and his base. The Tommy human excitedly ran over to him, turning around to run backwards and talk to the others as he did. The new humans, _they_ seemed to have common sense. They seemed surprised, and _almost_ intimidated when they saw his sword at his side.

Tommy almost tripped on Technoblade’s hoof, which earned an annoyed grunt and a - very gentle - kick to the leg. Tommy had only grumbled out an “ow” sound in response.

Right. Humans made sounds. Sounds that were more complex than the Piglin grunts and snorts. Great. He’d have to learn that.

He wanted to ask them what they wanted. Wanted to tell them to go away. Maybe even fight them to go away, his business was none of theirs, he was a king goddamnit he could figure this out himself!

But they wouldn’t understand, would they? Of course not.

So he ignored them. Or, tried to, rather. The next few hours were spent with Tommy stubbornly trying to introduce the two new humans - the sounds for them were Wilbur and Phil, respectively, and good lord they sounded like hell to pronounce - and trying to get Technoblade to understand him.

Eventually, the human Phil had taken over, shooing Tommy to go with the other two. He stood in front of Technoblade, looking friendly and well meaning in his stance. Wouldn’t last a day in the Nether like that.

Phil waved, and, okay, a universal greeting, it seemed. He could work with that. He begrudgingly waved back, and it earned a pleasantly surprised expression, and a smile on Phil’s face. The human called back to the others, but when the three stayed as far away as they’d been for the past few minutes, Phil rolled his eyes and moved to sit beside Technoblade. He put a hand to his chest and repeated the sound for his name, “Phil.” He then let his hand hover near Technoblade, a questioning expression on his face, and so Technoblade repeated the grunts for his name. The confused expression was… expected. Disappointing, almost, but expected.

So he pointed to his sword. The edge of it. Blade. Phils eyes traveled down to it, and then back up to Technoblade. 

“Blade?”

He could hear a surprised noise from Tommy, and an almost angry yell (“Oh for fucks sake, Phil, how did _you_ get the guys name and I didn’t?” He said, whatever those noises had meant.) and he had to snort out a laugh at that, shrugging. It was half of his name, but it’ll do.

Phil made a motion, repeating the word, then pointed to his own mouth. Technoblade must’ve looked confused, or had some sort of face, because Phil then gestured to Technoblade himself, saying his name again. “Blade.”

Had he wanted him to try saying it? He should know he can't say human words. He’s a Piglin, he physically can't. But if these humans were as stubborn as Tommy was, then… worth a shot, he supposed, if only to get them off his back.

It was… difficult. He tried repeating the mouth movements - with Phil talking slower when he realized - but no noise came out. He was frustrated. He felt like a child, which, honestly? No thanks.

Whatever. It’s not like he wanted help, anyway. It’d be nice, though, wouldn’t it?

Nope. No. Not entertaining that thought.

He didn’t try saying his name again.

\---

“Blade!”

Technoblade looked up from what he was doing - which wasn’t much, just cooking, as he’d long since learned that the animals in this realm tasted _awful_ raw, which he wasn’t used to at all - to see Tommy running in from the pathway to the clearing.

The boy ran up to him, breathing heavily as he paused to lean against a tree, and Technoblade gave him a questioning look.

“I want you to teach me how to fight.”

Technoblade paused, taking a second to pick apart the sentence and the words to find their meanings. He only recognized a few, but from the context..

He shook his head. Wilbur had told him ahead of time that Tommy might try this, and while he wasn’t one for making promises and keeping them, there was something about this weird group of humans that made him let go of a few old habits.

Tommy groaned, crossing his arms. “C’mon, man, just for a minute? Wilbur wont let me take lessons, which is fucking stupid, because he _knows_ I’m gonna need to learn that in the future, so- just- come on. Please?”

The pleading tone in his voice probably wasn’t intentional, judging on the fact that Technoblade knows how Tommy is like, but..

Letting out a groan of his own, Technoblade snapped two small branches off of the tree next to him - he’s not about to use his _actual_ sword against a child, who do you think he is? He’s mean but he’s not.. _like that_ \- and he threw the longer one to Tommy. May as well give the kid an advantage.

“Co..py,” he tries saying, cringing at how his throat practically _screamed_ at him. He wasn’t used to speaking, not yet at least, so he tries his best to use as little words as possible.

Tommy perked up, eyeing Technoblade as he got into an easy offence stance. After a second, Tommy slowly managed to copy the stance, mirroring Technoblade. The nod of approval made a grin spread on his face.

And it went like that for hours of the day, with Technoblade initially showing and having Tommy copy him. When Tommy stubbornly kept trying to whack him with the stick - without even proper form, for fucks sake - he gave in and actually allowed a practice fight duel between the two of them. He was going easy on Tommy on purpose, not even trying, which seemed to frustrate the human beyond belief. 

They’d take a few breaks - mostly because Technoblade was still hungry, and was in the middle of cooking before Tommy came around - and… Tommy wasn’t improving _fast,_ that was to be expected, but he was.. getting better. Very slowly.

Near the end of the day, with the sun dipping below the treeline, Technoblade gently thumped the stick against Tommy’s throat. It wasn’t nearly enough to hurt, but Tommy still glared at him all the same.

“Lost. Go.”

“Fine,” Tommy grumbled, tossing the stick to the side and brushing off his clothes. “I’m gonna try again, you know. Tomorrow probably.”

Technoblade shook his head, shooing the kid away. If he took any longer he wouldn’t be home by the time the mobs came, and Technoblade wasn’t about to get a kid killed.

They waved, and then Tommy was on his way home.

\---

He’d learned a lot, now. The human’s language was actually pretty interesting - they had specific words for practically everything! If he could, he’d spend all day learning more about the language and its writing. Apparently there was a word for that, too. Two words, rather, if he remembered correctly. An English major, or whatever that was. It’s probably not right, but that's the only thing he could think of.

He understood writing and spoken words more than he could speak it himself, though, which kind of sucked but hey, he didn’t have much to say anyway. He could say his name, yes, no, and a few basic sentences. That was a win in his book.

The humans he had first met refused to leave him alone. Phil would help the most - Technoblade decided he didn’t mind Phil all that much anymore - and Wilbur had an honestly lovely voice, playing that thing that had been on his back all that time ago while singing and practicing songs. It was an odd way to learn a language, but Technoblade would be lying if he said it didn’t help a _little._

Tubbo was kind, and would often stop by to ramble about anything from school, to bees, to whatever Tommy had done to get in trouble with Wilbur that day. He didn’t mind the kid, really. He wouldn’t respond much, but Tubbo was honestly nice background noise, and with the added bonus of infodumping about whatever he felt like talking about that day, he’d also inadvertently help Technoblade learn a few more things about this realm. Bees.. huh.

Tommy… was Tommy. He didn’t help much, and often got in the way, but the kid seemed determined to get Technoblade accustomed to the Overworld and it’s languages, along with wanting to bother the hell out of him until they fought with sticks, and honestly, he could admire that. He didn’t know many people - Piglins or otherwise - who were as determined and motivated for something as Tommy was.

Right now, he was standing outside of his home, his coat hung up on some string to dry from a wash. He hadn’t seen those funny little humans for a while, a few days actually - a new record - and it almost concerned him. They had a schedule, damn it!

Almost. Almost concerned him. It didn’t concern him at all, actually.

And so what if he nervously paced back and fourth, debating on if he should just say fuck it, grab a cloak, and stop by close to the village to make sure it was even still there? That didn’t mean anything. The knowledge that Wilbur had often talked about his village having tensions with a nearby village didn’t make him at all nervous, not at all. And even if it did - which, it didn’t! - then that was for him to know and no one else to find out.

Muttering to himself, Technoblade decided to let out some of that nervous energy the only way he really knew how; stabbing shit.

It was easier to sharpen his netherite sword now, with the easy access to a lot of tool sharpening materials, though he just had to make sure he wouldn’t chip it or break it. It would be difficult to do either, but very much possible, and while he’d never gone mining himself, he was sure that the Overworld had no debris just lying around for him to use to fix his things.

There was a dead tree nearby his clearing that he sometimes uses as target practice with his crossbow. It made for a good sword dummy, too, but he had _actual_ dummies for that. It’s just that those weren’t often strong enough to take much of a beating, and it just so happened that the tree was.

For what felt like hours, but was most likely only a few minutes, Technoblade went absolutely wild on the tree. Pieces of bark practically flew with each hit, but he wouldn’t stop until his sword was embedded deep into the tree. He was breathing heavily from just how much he had moved in such a short amount of time, and had to put a foot on the tree to tug his sword loose.

It.. wouldn’t come loose. At least, not as easily as he would have hoped it to. That thing was in _deep,_ probably snagged on something inside the tree, fuck if he knew.

He was about to try again, when he heard the familiar crunch of leaves from the path to his clearing. He perks up, glancing over to the little entrance, watching Wilbur slowly walk in - is he limping? - with a bag over his shoulder and a cloak over his body. Tommy follows in closely behind him, a little band-aid across his nose, expression angry. He was grumbling about something, but Technoblade couldn’t hear.

“Hey,” Wilbur calls when he spots Technoblade, coming over to stand near him. He looked… tired. “Sorry for disappearing without telling you. There’s, uh.. some stuff going on back home.” At the look Technoblade gives him, he raises his hands. “Nothing too bad, I swear! It’s just-”

“Green fucker decided to fuck shit up,” Tommy cuts him off, crossing his arms. “Other town. Gave a fucking ‘warning’ or whatever.” He does little air-quotes, rolling his eyes. “Warning, my ass. No ones dead or anything but Wil got fucked up ‘cus he’s a dumbass.”

“Tommy.” Wilbur gives him a pointed look, and Tommy shrinks under his gaze, scowling and looking to the ground.

Technoblade only frowns, managing to tug his sword out of the tree as he talks. “C’mon inside. Don’t worry ‘bout it. Are uh... The other two okay?” He gestures for them to follow, walking back to his house.

“Oh, yeah, Tubbo and Phil were out of town today,” Wilbur says, tugging on Tommy’s sleeve to signal that they were going. “So they’re fine, Phil’s panicked but that's.. expected.” Technoblade could practically hear his smile as he continues, “he’s kind of like our dad, if that makes sense. Cares a lot about us like one, that's for sure.”

That was sweet, having someone to care enough about you like that. To know you’ve got someone who’s there for you.

Entering the house, Technoblade motions for the two to sit at the table near the door, going in the back for something to help Wilbur. He wasn’t just going to let him bleed out, or whatever was going on.

He didn’t have much, and that became apparent when he came back, quickly looking Wilbur over to make sure it was nothing major. He did have a few… no, those were for emergencies only. Or if something needed stitches, because he had no idea how to do that, and he was 90% sure Wilbur didn’t either.

Setting the few medical things on the table beside Wilbur’s cloak, Technoblade listened in on their conversation as he quickly looked over what seemed to be the worst part of it - just a gash on Wilbur’s arm. Tommy seemed totally uninjured aside from the band-aid, so his main focus was Wilbur. 

As he got to work, he’d occasionally respond to a few questions thrown his way - mostly mundane things like “how have you been” and what he’s been doing - and while sure, yes, he could speak their language as well as if he’d been born with it, he still only gave short answers. At least, at first. When he was finished cleaning up Wilbur’s arm and making sure it wasn’t too bad, then he allowed himself to split his focus.

The whole thing took at most, thirty minutes. It ended with Technoblade tightly wrapping some bandages around the wound - it wasn’t so deep that he needed _stitches,_ but it would sure as hell be annoying to do anything with that arm for a while - before tying them and tearing off the excess.

While he put the supplies back into their container, Wilbur spoke up. “Hey, so- thanks. For that. You really didn’t need to, I mean, but- still. Thanks, Blade.”

A beat. Technoblade pauses in his motions, before nodding. “‘Course.” Another pause as he closes up the container, then he continues without explanation, “also. It’s uh. Techno.”

He earns a few blinks in response, and a “huh?” from Tommy, before he realizes he should probably elaborate.

“Full name. Technoblade. Didn’t know how to tell you ‘til now. Not important, just thought I should let you know.” He says, moving to head back to put away the supplies, before he stops at the doorway and peers back at them. “Uh.. glad you’re alright, I guess. You can stay here if you want - ‘til the other two get back.”

And then he’s off for the night.

\---

“Hey Technoblade, can I just call you Techno?”

“... Huh?”

“Y’know, ‘cus your full names long as hell, and “Blade” seems really formal, so.. can I call you Techno?”

“I-.. I mean. I guess? Tommy, it’s three in the morning, you could’ve asked me later, _why-”_

“Heyheyhey listen I couldn’t sleep, okay! Don’t worry about it, man, I’ll go back to bed, promise! Just wanted to ask.”

“...kay. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Techno.”

\---

It’s years later, now. He’s been there for so long that Techno honestly doesn’t remember clearly what his life was like before. Sure, he could still speak in his old Piglin tongue, and _okay, yeah,_ he still gets weird about gold sometimes, but he’s grown accustomed to the Overworld. It’s honestly kind of better here than it had been in the Nether; the weather was unpredictable but nice, there wasn’t the constant threat of getting mauled by a Hoglin or exploded by a ghast, it was bright and kind looking..

Over time, his home grew alongside him. He added rooms, fenced off an area of the clearing to start a farm - specifically potatoes, because after Wilbur gave him a few, he’s been fucking _obsessed_ with those starchy bastards..

And when the village his friends - family? - had lived in was attacked by quote, “the green bastard and his buddies” (said by Tommy,) he had enough room in his home for them to stay and recoup. And if he really did consider them his family? If he really _did_ care about them? Well, they didn’t have to know.

It’s a sunny day when the five of them are sitting outside. Techno had long since told them stories of the Nether, and earned stories and myths from the Overworld in return, and he’d long since become comfortable enough with this gaggle of idiots he called his friends to laugh with them.

He sits on a wooden swing, hung from the thick branch of a large tree beside his house, rocking back and forth as he watches the others. Tommy was chasing the local bees, much to Tubbo’s dismay, with Phil off to the side trying to cook them dinner - struggling, a bit, because after all this time he _still_ can't manage to figure out Techno’s outdoor cooking system by memory - all while calling to the kids about how they need to be careful to not get stung.

Techno leans back a bit, adjusting his coat on the back of the swing. Wilbur comes over, catching his attention as he slips to sit beside him. It’s a comfortable silence, for a few moments, and it’s almost too nice to break.

Until Wilbur does.

“You know, Techno,” he starts, draping an arm over the back of the swing and looking over at Techno, “I’ve been wondering. You never explained why you have that crown of yours. Looks a whole lot like one from royalty, hm? Were you ever a king?”

He pauses, for a second.

And he genuinely has to think, because.. was he? He couldn’t remember - the title felt familiar, didn’t it?

He shrugs, instead of continuing to think. “To be honest, I’ve got no idea. I uh. Might’ve forgotten.”

A beat.

“..Do you think if you were they’d recognize you if you came back?”

Techno gives Wilbur a look. “Probably not. Where’s this coming from?”

“Eh,” Wilbur shrugs, looking back at the others, “was just curious. I was wondering if you’d ever take us to visit?”

That sends Techno laughing, loud and boisterous as he almost doubles over, and he stomps a hoof into the ground to steady the swing so that he doesn’t fall off.

“You-” a wheeze- “you’re kidding? You wouldn’t- you wanna know what's funny? The minute I met you guys I thought, ‘man, these guys wouldn’t last a day there,’ and you know what? Not to- ok, not to be rude, but you _absolutely_ wouldn't last a _minute_ . You- d’you remember how hot last summer was?” A nod from Wilbur. “That's the Nether on a _cold day,_ from what I remember. It’s _so_ bad you’d just collapse, man. Humans ‘nd stuff wouldn’t last long. No chance I’d take you guys there.”

Wilbur just rolls his eyes. “I’m sure we could snag a few potions of fire resistance.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong, that's _fire_ resistance, not _heat_ resistance.” A pause, and then a realization. “You’re talkin’ like you’ve already got a plan to get in there. Didn’t I bust my portal, or something?”

“... I mean yes, you did, but-”

They’re cut off by Phil calling out, “dinners ready, you four! Come on- Tommy! Tommy stop trying to get the beehive!” He can see Phil rub at his eyes with one hand as he gets the plates ready with the other. “Wilbur, can you go get him? Thanks.”

And if that afternoon was probably the best Techno’s ever had? And if there's a little part of him that wants more afternoons where they’re just hanging out, eating lunch together, laughing? Well…

Maybe he’d admit that. Just a little.

**Author's Note:**

> hiii this is based off of an idea i read abt techno being a piglin king who got bored, fucked around, learnt a language, you know how it is, and he just straight up forgets hes a real actual king lolol
> 
> if you know who i am no you dont <3 dont talk to me dont look at me do not PERCEIVE me im embarrassed
> 
> please feel free to leave comments tho!! i love them and appreciate them <3
> 
> (also PLEASE lmk what tags should be added if any, im rlly dumb and have no idea what would fit this
> 
> [i have a tumblr now, come say hi!!](https://pinkdwellermask.tumblr.com/)


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